A Journey of ‘Yes’: How God Led Me Home to the Catholic Church
- Guest Contributor
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A Denver mother shares how marriage, motherhood and grace led her from the Methodist church through OCIA and into the Catholic Church.
By Amanda Flageolle
2012. A lovely spring day for a walk with my future husband.
“Allen, what would you think about going to church with me this Sunday?” I asked as we walked through the neighborhood.
“I mean, I can go, but it wouldn’t fulfill my obligation,” he replied nonchalantly.
I was incredulous. Obligation? I could go with him to his Catholic church anytime, and that wasn’t a big deal, but if he went to the Methodist church I’d been attending, it wasn’t good enough to “fulfill his obligation?” Like any good Protestant, I was incensed and reminded once again about how we all know Catholics look down on us.
Life moved ahead, and as we went from dating to engaged, it was time for The Talk. Catholic or Methodist? I didn’t totally understand the differences, but I liked the church he attended, and his parents went there, so it made sense to go Catholic.
I looked my future husband in the eye and said, “Just know this: my baptism and my confirmation are just as good as yours in the eyes of God, and I’m never going to go through and get re-baptized or re-confirmed just to go to church.”
He nodded, we picked a wedding date and called his Catholic church to schedule all the pre-wedding preparations. In what can only be described as providential, the marriage prep mentors were like my future husband and my future self: Neal was a cradle Catholic, and Andi was a convert.
2013. A warm day in January, perfect for a celebration.
Our wedding day, and the beginning of our marriage! We welcomed our first child in August 2014, with little brother appearing in June 2016. Both of our boys were baptized at Spirit of Christ Parish in Arvada, and we talked briefly about a Catholic education. However, it was outside our means at the time, so we ruled it out. I started teaching, and our boys spent a lot of time at Grandma’s house before going into pre-K.
2020. March. COVID.
A new spring rolled in, and our oldest, now 5, was preparing to enter kindergarten in the fall of 2020. Three weeks before the school year began, we heard the news — elementary schools would not return to in-person learning for at least the first five weeks. As a teacher and the mother of two young boys, I knew that remote learning would have a terrible impact on students.
We thought about and discarded the learning pods; we discussed homeschooling; then we discovered there were a few schools staying in-person. These were the private schools, largely Catholic. Allen called a few and got John on the waiting lists. A week before school began, we got the call from the St. Joan of Arc Early Learning Center in Arvada, and John had a spot! We had 15 minutes to decide. This was the first yes. First John, then later Carson, had a marvelous kindergarten experience at St. Joan. Through their classroom, we discovered the gift of daily Mass. A second yes.
2022, late spring. A blustery Colorado day, excellent for thinking.
As our children got older, discussions turned to sacramental prep. By this time, Allen and I were part of the liturgical ministry at our home parish; we’d been volunteering as lectors for years, and I joined the choir.
With the prospect of my children being fully initiated into the Church, I was beginning to feel like an outsider in my own family. Was this my moment to draw a line in the sand? I attended my reader’s meetings, proclaimed the word of God in song and received Holy Communion every Sunday (I know, I know). Was my Protestant showing? Did they know I wasn’t really “one of them”? Why was my conscience pricking me about this?
I was compelled to stop receiving the Eucharist over the summer of 2022, which was a clear movement of our Father’s will. I emailed one of the parochial vicars at St. Joan to ask questions about full acceptance into the faith. (I was rather embarrassed about spilling my Methodist beans to my own pastor at first, because I was so involved in our parish. Sorry Father, that was all me, you are an inviting and wonderful priest!)
After that meeting, I did finally reach out to Father Chris, and he signed me up to attend OCIA (Order of Catholic Initiation for Adults) on Tuesday nights starting in September. I remember him saying, “Methodist, huh? We get a lot of those.” I was relieved, sheepish, excited, anxious and so much else, but above all, I couldn’t wait to get started. I said yes.
That year was full of incredible learning and faith-building. With my OCIA classmates at my side, we asked questions, we were challenged, and we grew. I learned how beautiful the Catholic faith is and why receiving the sacraments, especially the Eucharist and Reconciliation, is truly different. I discovered that Catholic Tradition goes with Holy Scripture to help us be little Christs. I started to see God’s hand in my life and began a journey of learning to trust him with everything.
2023, the beautiful Easter Vigil, my first, a night of love and joy.
Holy Eucharist. Confirmed. Converted. Initiated. Accepted. Yes, Lord, yes! My soul was flooded with the grace of the Lord; my face hurt from smiling; the joy was overflowing the hearts of my family and my community. God’s love and mercy are never-ending, and this was the best yes I ever uttered.
2025, a chilly but clear October day, a time for reflection.
I no longer feel that the Catholic mindset is largely “Protestants aren’t worthy,” but more that “We want to see our Protestant brothers and sisters truly saved; we want to share with them what we know.”
My never had turned into a journey of yes. God used my cradle Catholic husband to get me into the doors of his house. He used the COVID school shutdowns to bring me to daily Mass. He used my children’s growing faith and sacramental prep as seeds to grow my own.
When I look back, his work is so clear. It amazes me how blind I was. I share my conversion story with you now for two reasons:
I am on fire for Protestants to come to the fullness of the Church, and maybe this story will inspire you to invite your Protestant friend with you to Mass.
Maybe it’s similar to your story. If it is, maybe you need to hear that your story matters, because conversion spreads like a wildfire — when we let it breathe.
